


Colours

by ebyf13



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Batjokes, Canon-Typical Behavior, DC Comics References, Drabble, Free Verse, Gotham Batjokes, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mentioned Bruce Wayne, Post-Season/Series 05, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Short Stories, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25633015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebyf13/pseuds/ebyf13
Summary: It was just when the understanding felt like a cold waterbucket over his head and slipping down his shoulders.The said deluge that carried his most abysmal fear,made reality crash what was left of his doomed heart,and the lack of colors on his stage only confirmedwhat that helpless criminal had just told him.
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska/Bruce Wayne
Kudos: 15





	Colours

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Colores](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25632271) by [ebyf13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebyf13/pseuds/ebyf13). 



****Fri jul. 31, 2020.**  
**06:21 P.M.** **

**“Pigment Everywhere”**

_Fresh orangish color, the yellowed October leaves,_  
_they covered the path like sparkles at the top of a blank canvas._  
_Bluish color, coming from the cloudless sky that contemplated_  
_the human being born from a chemical warehouse._  
_The sun and its glow that contrasted the cold autumn current._  
_His walk was hasty. However, he managed to create a balance_  
_to appreciate the roads, the buildings, sculptures, and details_  
_and details from the citizens of Gotham._

_He had arrived at his best-worked hideout, far from his beloved Asylum,_  
_filled with debris back in the day as a prestigious engineer._  
_He immediately peeked into his collection of the same Champagne model,_  
_which reminded him of the joy he cherished when he sat in the modest dining_  
_room of the Wayne Manor, toasting his adored Dark Knight on an afternoon_  
_tragedy. By nothing in this world, he was going to be able to replace his taste_  
_for the mentioned sparkling wine that warmly satiated his throat._  
_«Remembering is Living,» he thought. He walked infinitely through the own_  
_mahogany brown shelf, trying to cure his eternal feeling of abandonment_  
_caused and forgiven by the one who carried his other half._

_Reach._  
_Drink after Drink just like water._  
_Collapsing at not seeing his soulmate close to his lap._  
_A joke without a punchline._

_A loved melody by the young Wayne began to play._  
_The man who was a fanatic of purple jackets dragging the floor_  
_rushed to pour himself a glass of Whiskey. The time when the_  
_inevitable happened. The seconds ticked by, his vision blocked by_  
_countless white flashes similar to a photographic camera. It made_  
_It made him dizzy until he grabbed the torn skin from his face to wrap himself._  
_His sight that at a slow pace no longer allowed him to inspect the furniture that_  
_surrounded him. The whole place, like his soul, had been splashed with a gray_  
_color, giving off an atmosphere with a faded panorama._

_His hands hidden in the leather gloves trembled._  
_His orbs filled with tears, but he held them captive by laughing_  
_hysterically, closing his eyes tightly. The Valeska warned himself_  
_that if he let his bitter regrets fall, there was no going back._

_Weeks passed by._  
_Again, the Prince of Crime enjoyed his freedom._  
_Consequently, there was the dread of the city roads._  
_Attempting to continue with the next step of his brilliant plan._  
_His phone boomed, alerting to an incoming call._  
_It was a miracle that immersed in the fog provided by the alcohol_  
_he was able to respond._

_“Sorry, Jeremiah.”_  
_The voice of a forgotten accomplice came through the earpiece._

_It was just when the understanding felt like a cold water_  
_bucket over his head and slipping down his shoulders._  
_The said deluge that carried his most abysmal fear,_  
_made reality crash what was left of his doomed heart,_  
_and the lack of colors on his stage only confirmed_  
_what that helpless criminal had just told him._

_Bruce was dead._  
_His other half no longer existed in this world._

──Fabiana.


End file.
